Comeuppance
Kohga watched with pride from the edge of the arena. It was a secret pride, one he could never show, or share with the object of it, but he felt it all the same. His son, Iko, was growing stronger every day. The boy and his cousin sparred intensely before him, the latter desperately attempting to fend off his boy’s flurry of attacks. It was a hopeless venture, Iko outmatched Sosze in every way. His boy smashed through guard’s, sidestepped every strike, and swept his opponent off his feet again and again. But he did not show arrogance, he showed humility, and honor. Every time Sosze hit the ground, Iko would help him back up, show him his mistakes, and keep his spirits high. Now the two had been at it for six minutes, and to his credit, Sosze refused to go down. Both were his blood, and for all the pride he felt towards his son’s skill, his nephews determination also was worthy of admiration. Both of them would make the Doram proud. Finally, Sosze lashed out, his strike went wide, and Iko closed the gap, ramming the wooden staff into Sosze’s chest and sending him onto his back. A hard earned victory, the greatest kind. “That is enough for now.” Kohga spoke with a steely authority. Iko looked to him, searching for some kind of approval. It took all Khoga had to hide it. He could not risk letting the boy suspect the truth, that was not their way. Iko helped his cousin to his feet, and Sosze muttered something that caused the two of them to laugh. Kohga did not scold them, they had worked hard, and both strove to be disciplined. They had earned a moment of levity. The two came before him and bowed their heads, waiting for his instructions. “Iko, you became sloppy as time went on, your strikes were more wild and you began waiting to the last moment to evade. Showmanship will give you nothing but an early and honorless death. Sosze, you barely held your own, you cannot rely on that thick skin of yours when the enemy wield something greater than a blunt stick. You both have improved, but there is still much to learn. For both of you.” He let his words hand in the air for a moment, letting the two absorb his critique. Then his son’s head was consumed by a bolt of plasma. Kohga froze, horror seeped into him, his stomach churned violently as dread drowned him. As his son’s headless corpse collapsed, his eyes shot upwards. There were dozens of them, warriors clad in black armor, no distinct markings to suggest what keep they came from, and at the head was something else entirely. A demon stood at the head of them. Rage filled him. “Sosze, run.” He commanded. The boy didn’t listen, there was no time. The second Khoga lunged forwards a hail of plasma cut them both down. ---- The keep was in chaos. Fires raged everywhere, warriors raged and weapons cut through everything. But Oha remained calm, she had to for the young ones. “Come now, we must go to the Kadion.” She cooed, ushering along a cadre of the keep’s children, many her nieces and nephews. To her back stood her sons, inactive blades clutched in hand. Ter and Ryzo both wished to be fighting off the invaders, she knew that, but they knew their duty. The group hurried through the winding halls of the keep towards its center where it would be safest. She’d shielded the young one’s eyes as her sons cut down the scum intruding on their home, many of them would grow up to be warriors she knew, but it was too soon. Far too soon. She was the wife of the Kadion, and she’d decide when the young were ready for at least today. “I’m scared.” One of the boys muttered. “I knew you were a coward Laro.” Hissed another. “Enough, both of you.” Oha snapped. There was no time for childish bickering. An explosion thundered somewhere close by, and the children yelped in shock as the walls shook around them. Oha looked over her shoulder to her sons, they were still there, thank the gods. “Close, but not enough to worry, keep going.” Ter urged her. Even as a warrior he maintained a kindness that she was deeply proud of, he always took time to teach the children much like his father, and was always gentle. Ryzo though had always been more jaded, but she knew he had an honorable heart. He was too smart for his own good, he knew who his father was, and rather than understand the traditions of their people he felt scorned by them. But he would grow out of it. Then there was a scream. It cut through the air like a knife the way the sound of utter agony only could. It was close, too close. “What was tha-” Laro began, stopping to look behind them before another explosion thundered. Oha leapt to the front of the children to stop them as the hall before them erupted. It was close enough she could feel the heat of the blast wash over her, but not enough the harm them. It did however, cut off their path as one of the keep’s ornate stone pillars had crashed through. “Mother, we’ll have to find another route.” Ter stated calmly, patting one of the girl’s on the head to calm her. “Come.” He beckoned. Oha nodded, and motioned for the children to follow behind her boys. Then the scream came again, and not thirty feet in front of Ter and Ryzo, one of the walls exploded into the hall. There was no heat, no burst of plasma, just the mangled corpse of one of their warriors, and something else standing over it. Something in her stomach twisted at the sight of it. It wasn’t Sangheili, and between the darkness and the haze of dust she could barely make out the figure in grey. Regardless, she put herself in front of the children. “Stay behind us.” Ryzo growled, his blade springing to life. “It will be alright little ones.” Ter assured, before igniting his own. For a moment she felt a sense of pride that overcame the fear for the lives of the children and her sons, the two were some of the finest swordsmen the clan had ever seen for their age. Whoever this attacker was, he was doomed. They lunged for it. Their weapons cut arcs of light in the darkness as the two attacked in tandem. The figure was silent, weaving between them and ducking under blows. The children began to cheer for their champions. The attacker lashed out with a jab here and there, but the most part he simply evaded, as if it was observing, trying to find the right moment to strike. Then there was a wet crack, and Ter’s blade dropped from his hand. Her stomach lurched as her son stumbled back, gripping his arm which now was grotesquely twisted. She screamed as in the blink of an eye the creature snagged Ter’s falling blade and ran it through Ryzo’s, the tips of the blade jutting out of his head. Grief, horror, and anger surged through her, but she maintained herself enough to stand in front of the children. Ter threw himself into the attacker, tackling it back through the hole it had made in the wall. “Go!” He bellowed. She wanted to rush to his aide, to stomp the life out of the monster that had taken her son, but she knew her duty. She shoved the children to scared the move, and dragged one too frozen with fear to run, only stopping to scoop of the blade of her fallen son. Three shots rang out and the scuffle fell silent. Oha froze, and slowly turned to look towards the hole in the wall. She prayed to the gods old and new that Ter would step through the rubble, but he didn’t. It stepped back through, the blood of her clan, the blood of her son’s spattered across the gray and red armor, the maw of teeth painted onto it’s helmet and an unfeeling silver visor met her gaze. She’d heard the tales from her husband of how he’d slain them, they’d made her think they were much less imposing than the name suggested. But no, they truly were demons. Her eyes settled on the plasma repeater hefted in its arms. She barely had the time to scream before a rain of blue plasma cut her down. ---- Teka ripped the blade from the body of one of the interlopers, once they had driven off these scum their would be hell to pay. They had been considering ‘Mdama and ‘Makhan’s offers, ‘Vadam had not been fair to them, and they had grown tired of it. But he though such raids as this beneath the Arbiter. Perhaps he’d been wrong. But down the halls echoed a scream, from a voice all to distinct. His beloved. “Eradicate them.” He snarled to his brother, before turning on his heel and sprinting out of the keep’s courtyard and into the winding halls. He leapt over rubble and bodies, taking no time to identify if the bodies he trampled over were family or foe, fear pushed such sensibilities from his thoughts. Oha had to be alright, she had to be safe, not even the lowest ‘Vadam warrior would cut down the matriarch of the keep, Thel had more honor than that. But then Teka rounded a final corner, and he saw it. A mess of bodies, children, one of his son’s, and his beloved. She was riddled with holes where plasma had cut through her, and her eyes were wide with fear. She’d believed he’d make it in time, and when he hadn’t- There was nothing he would not do to the monster who did this, and he didn’t have to look far to find it. Among the bodies stood, a demon? Something clicked, this was not orchestrated by ‘Vadam. This was a level of savagery he saw as uniquely human. Rage threatened to boil away his very flesh as his voice boomed. “A thousand hells could not compare to what I will do to you and your people for this barbarity demon.” He ignited his blade and roared, but to his surprise the demon ignited a blade of his own. In fact, the blade was Teka’s, the ‘Doram ancestral blade. Teka’s heart dropped, as he took a moment to look at the demon. Teka had lost the blade on the human’s home world when he’d left it lodged in the stomach of a demon, one who’s helm had been adorned with the jaws of a beast. This one’s armor was different, far more advanced and a different color spare the marks of red, but the jaws remained. They looked freshly painted too, as if they’d been applied for this. Dread overtook him as he realized. It was his fault. They were all dead because of him. He’d let himself get distracted, he hadn’t gone for the kill, and now they were all dead. “I told you.” It spoke, it’s voice bristling with rage, stepping over the lifeless corpses towards him. Teka was too consumed with anger and wracked with guilt to speak. “I told you I’d find you.” Teka was shaking, his grip on the hilt of his blade so tight he worried he might crush it. It was mocking him, like he’d done to it. He had only done his duty to the Covenant, followed the will of the gods, served his people. How could he be punished so horribly for doing to? Where was the justice in that? It was growing closer, it’s armored boot crushing his love’s lifeless hand beneath its weight. Teka would slaughter it, and every human insect he could for this, he swore it. “So you did.” He uttered, his voice shaking with righteous hatred. “And you will suffer for it.” The leapt towards one another, screaming like rabid beasts for one last duel. Category:The Weekly